


Eyes of Fire and Lions of Gold

by AkenJizo



Category: Game of Thrones (TV), The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: An asshole from the past teaches an asshole of the future on how to be an asshole, Disagreements, Gen, Manipulation, Not sure if this has been done before, The Game of Thrones - Freeform, Without the whole "dying as a result" thing, backstabbing, oh well, shameless crossover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-04-01 15:37:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4025383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkenJizo/pseuds/AkenJizo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the reign of the Mad King yet to come, the lands of Westeros find themselves visited by a group of strange yet knowledgeable vagabonds that call themselves "the Istari".  What do they want, and more importantly, what will they do to get it?  Will they succeed at their mysterious goals, or will the Game of Thrones destroy them as it has destroyed so many others?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea that's been stuck in my head all day, so I finally sat down and wrote a prologue for it. I apologize for my Sindarin, as it is almost certainly shit. Also, I must admit that I have not actually sat down and watched Game of Thrones yet. All my knowledge of the characters comes from the clips I've seen on youtube and what I've read online. I'll try my best to keep everyone in character, but I figured I should let that cat out of the bag immediately so anyone actually reading this can jump ship before it catches fire and explodes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: Eluluni's name has been changed to Elufaun, because I'm using an online dictionary to come up with these names and I couldn't remember what the "luni" part of their name meant. Subsequent searching yielded nothing, so I changed it to Elufaun (and wrote down what the latter meant this time).

It is the foundation of an age of strife.  Aerys II Targaryen, the future Mad King, is yet but a small boy, barely in his 6th year of life.  The last of the world’s legendary creatures continue their decline into extinction, and from there into myth.  The lord Maeker Targaryen rules as best he can, but his reign is slowly approaching its inevitable end.  The lands of Westeros have but one king’s reign left before they fall into ruin.  A scant few decades remain before the people’s anger explodes, and the great leaders of men make names for themselves.

Pain and loss are the norm in Westeros.  Even for nobles, life is generally fairly short and extremely brutal.  Though Maeker tries his best to be a good king, the rule of his line is far too sporadic in its morality to be truly stable.  The Game of Thrones has yet to truly begin, but its foundations are being set even now.  Soon, far too soon, the land’s suffering will begin, and it will not end for quite some time, despite what the brief peace would have them believe.

Into this land, where cruelty and madness lies on the horizon, where the seeds of dissatisfaction have been planted but have yet to sprout, where the world has yet to realize how close it is to open warfare, a strange people emerged from the shadows.  Calling themselves the Istari, these five roam the lands, visiting all manners of folk.  They are a strange band of vagabonds, calling themselves such things as “Gandalf the White” and “Calenbrethil the Green”, apparently after their favorite colors going by their clothes.

It does not take long for views on them to become mixed.  Some despise them for the doom that so often emerges at their passing.  Some find them fascinating, as they speak of ancient knowledge and legends of lands long forgotten (or perhaps never known) to the people of Westeros.  Some respected them, as they were very good at solving a province’s problems.  Some even revered them, claiming that they could bring salvation from any peril, whether it be disease or bandits or simple bad luck.

A very select few were wary of them, for despite their oddities, the “wizards” were a very shrewd and cunning lot, and had begun subtly pushing the various lords and commoners in the directions they wanted them to go.  What were they planning?  What did they want?  What were they trying to accomplish with these private Games of theirs?  No one but they could be sure.  Whenever confronted on the matter, they each gave their own answer, with the only connecting factor being something north of The Wall.

It was no surprise when the various lords of the land tried to return the favor, doing their best to control and beguile the Istari that went their way, with a few going so far as to try and have them assassinated.  Nothing worked, however; it was as if the wandering wizards could predict the future, with how often they managed to cheat the odds and escape alive (though not always unscathed).  Those same lords also found that the vagabonds had their own ways of enacting retribution.  Stairs became traps for the unsuspecting, trees seemed to grow in such a way that passage through certain areas became impossible, and good old thwacks with wooden staves were just a few of the punishments the Istari had prepared for these interlopers.  The attempts stopped almost as soon as they had started as a result.

Even so, these strange and unknown folk were constantly watched, entire spy networks being created and devoted to monitoring their movements and actions.  It may be a bad idea to directly challenge any one of these people, but that didn’t mean the various lords of Westeros were willing to let them wander and do as they please with impunity.  They just needed one slip, one accident, one thing that they could use…and they could finally bring these disgustingly independent “wise” men to heel.

That being said, when one of the Istari came to visit, they were still generally given the treatment of an honored guest, usually amounting to a single nights meal and rest, as well as an hour or two to explain their reason for visiting.  At the time, the wizards seemed to be respecting the authority of their hosts, and almost always left after this grace period was over.  They could be gruff or blunt sometimes, but they always treated their hosts with the same geniality they received, and the advice they gave was always sound (if not a bit cryptic at times).  All in all, they seemed content to do what they could to improve Westeros' condition in small, extremely subtle ways, and all for a cause no one could figure out.

This was not to last.  Gandalf the White, the apparent leader of the Istari, had paid a visit to King Tagaryen personally.  No one was quite sure what was said between them, as the wizened old coot had requested complete privacy for their meeting, but whatever was said convinced the King to hire Gandalf as an adviser that very day.  The uproar that caused was incredible, and would not be seen again for decades.  It was, to say the least, not the most popular decision Maeker had ever made.  But no matter how hard or passionately his other advisers argued against it, the King stood by his decision; Gandalf was made a member of the Small Council as the Lord Magician, and wasted no time in getting on the bad side (unwittingly or no) of almost all the other members.

The other Istari seemed to be either inspired by their leader or took his actions as some agreed-upon sign, as they too began to find lords which they could serve more permanently.  Barangwelu the Brown joined the Martells, Elufaun the Blue joined the Tullys soon after, and Calenbrethil the Green joined the Greyjoys not long after that.  As for the final Istari, he had to search a bit more to find his chosen lord, but it was only a matter of time before he too made his choice.  Said lord was found in the most unlikely of states.

Tywin Lannister was 8 years old when he met Annatar the Red.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lion meets the Flame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still don't own the Silmarillion or Game of Thrones. They belong to their respective owners.

Tywin Lannister was a very bright child, something his father loved to boast about to anyone who’d listen.  He learned quickly and avidly, blazing through lessons that men twice his age struggled with.  It seemed like he wanted to know everything there was to know.  He was also one of the very few people in all of Westeros who could even entertain the idea of actually succeeding at this goal.

His father, Lord Tytos Lannister, had told the young heir to dress up a bit, as they had a very important guest visiting that day.  Tywin had accepted this demand without complaint, but had ultimately refused to let go of his own fondness for simplicity and practicality.  The black shirt he wore was made from the finest cloth Casterly Rock had at its disposal, but it was loose-fitting enough that it didn’t restrict his arms, despite the oppressive formality of the thing.  It looked more comfortable than it was, having some sort of quilt pattern as its décor, except the quilt was made entirely of pillows and had no variety in its colors.  It did have its gold lion buttons going for it, but he could hardly call himself impartial on that matter.  His pants were rather simple ones, looking pretty much indistinguishable from his usual black pants, albeit made with better materials. 

His shoes _were_ the same ones he always wore; if this guest spoke to Tywin and was bothering to look at his shoes of all things, the future lord had failed on a very deep and personal level.  If you were talking to the future Lord of Casterly Rock, you were looking him in the face or at the floor.  Looking at his shoes might imply the former, but to Tywin, it meant that whoever he was speaking to had become so bored that they were looking at anything else just to stimulate them.  _That_ was absolutely unacceptable.

Tywin was the kind of boy who demanded attention without actually needing to demand it.  His presence was simply so _loud_.  When he entered a room, every head turned to look.  When he spoke, everyone listened.  Even at the age of 8, the young lion commanded awe and respect through his every movement.  He was born to rule over others, and he knew that all too well.

That being said, he was only 8, and while very intelligent, he simply didn’t have the knowledge and experience to truly be fearsome yet.  Thus, Lord Tywin Lannister was spoken to with respect usually reserved for an adult, but was still treated in all other respects like a child.  The unthinking assumption that Tywin not only would, but should listen to his father without question, for example, was a fairly typical example of this.  Not only that, but the fact that he spoke so well for someone so young made him unnerving for more than a few of the servants that had to deal with him on a regular basis.  He simply didn’t act like a child, and it was incredibly unsettling.  Being caught in this strange respectful singularity was confusing for the lad, to say the least. 

Honestly, he didn’t know why he’d bothered following this particular order.  This “very important guest” was most likely here to speak with his father.  There was no reason for them to look for him, and Casterly Rock was so unreasonably huge that the odds of them just running into him were extremely low.  No, if they were to meet, Tywin would have to go out of his way to go and greet the guest himself, and he had no inclination to do such a thing.

…or at least, he hadn’t had the inclination.  But then Joanna had expressed an interest in seeing this stranger for herself, and Tywin was roped along for the ride (as usual; the Lion’s cub had long ago learned that his best friend was strangely persuasive.  Maybe she could control minds?  It was worth considering).  They were currently walking down the hall to one of the many guest rooms, Tywin in stony silence and Joanna cheerfully wondering what kind of person had come to talk with the current Lord Lannister.  She had so many ideas, and seemed far too excited to tell Tywin every single one of them before they reached the room.

Eventually her desire to catch a glimpse of the visitor that she raced down the hallway, getting so far ahead of her companion that she’d have to shout if the cheerful young girl wanted Tywin to hear her.  The light of the slightly ajar door (and really?  The door was slightly ajar?  Whomever had last used it obviously had not been trained in how to hold a private conversation) was beckoning to her, and the young Lion had seen her do far more for far less tempting subject matter.  She didn’t even hesitate as she reached it and peaked in.

Tywin’s eyebrow raised a bit as he noticed her stiffen for a moment, and then the other joined its brother when she turned back to him.  He was too far away to get a really good look at her face, but she looked pretty surprised from over here…and then that surprise turned into a giddy excitement one would usually see in a child that had just received about five shiny new toys.

She didn’t force him to wait for whatever had left her gobsmacked; she raced back over to him as fast as her legs would let her, and she paused only to catch her breath before blurting out “It’s an Istari!  An Istari, Tywin!   Your dad’s being visited by a real life wizard!”

Whatever he’d been expecting, that had most certainly not been it.  His father, visited by one of those 5?  Why?  What could an Istari want from Tytos Lannister, of all people?  He generally didn’t express his opinion of his father very often, because it was slightly confused.  On the one hand, his father was a genuinely good man, and Tywin had to respect that, if only slightly.  Tytos had also done everything he could to foster his son’s talents, ensuring the young boy had one of the best educations in all the land.  Tywin _definitely_ respected that.  It didn’t even matter whether or not he was doing it simply because he loved his son or because he wanted Tywin to grow to be the best Lord the Lannisters had ever spawned (or both).  If nothing else, Tywin could not and would never be able to deny that the basis for his rise to power was almost certainly entirely thanks to his father.

That being said, his father was very much a pushover.  Honestly, the Lion’s cub could probably get his patriarch to do whatever the young boy wanted just by saying it forcefully enough.  It was ludicrous, and that part of his father was one that Tywin scorned with all his heart.  Tytos was a Lannister; he shouldn’t be making apologies, he shouldn’t be spending so much time appeasing others, and he definitely needed to learn how to learn the difference between a good investment and a bad one.  It was utterly disgraceful.

And thus, Tywin was left confused and slightly alarmed.  What could a person such as an Istari want with his father?  Gold?  No, they were rather infamous for being utterly unimpressed with material wealth.  Influence?  No, that didn’t make sense.  His father had the influence of a latrine.  If the wizard wanted to control a real mover/shaker, he would go to the Starks.  A puppet?  That made even less sense; with no influence, his father couldn’t do much of anything, really.  Tytos would have to grow a spine to be a useful tool to anyone, and honestly, Tywin didn’t see that happening anytime soon.

The Lannister’s heir frowned a bit more than usual and strode forward with a calm purpose.  He’d heard stories about how tricky the supposedly magical vagabonds could be, and even half of them were true, this one would have his father in their pocket with the first sentence.  Tywin could not allow that.  Spineless fool or not, Tytos Lannister was still his father, and still a Lannister.  Tywin absolutely would not tolerate anyone trying to use him for any reason.  And if he was too late, and their “guest” had already swindled his father (probably swindled him thrice for good measure)…well, Tywin was 8 years old.  There wasn’t much he could do yet.  But he would remember, oh yes, and one day…one day, the stranger would wish they had never been born.

A Lannister always pays his debts.

He reached the door at least, opening it a bit more so he could step inside.  As he did so, he finally got a good look at the Istari.  It was a man, and a surprisingly young one for someone from a group of supposed sages.  Indeed, he couldn’t have been more than 26.  The mage’s skin was fair, almost as much as a Targaryen’s, if that was even possible.  His blonde hair hung down to his shoulders.  It was much cleaner and well cared for than Tywin would have expected, especially from someone who traveled as much as one of those 5 did.  Actually, he seemed too immaculate in general.  His simple cloak was a deep red, with nary a blemish or tear.  Not even a smidge of dust could be seen.  A wooden staff was resting on the apparent “wise” man’s left shoulder, its tip resting comfortably on the floor next to his feet.  Despite its extremely gnarled head, it too was impossibly clean.  Tywin had the distinct impression that if the Istari’s shoes weren’t hidden beneath his cloak, he would have seen that they did not even have dirt on their soles.  Nothing about the man, however, captured Tywin’s attention like his eyes.

They were an orange so brilliant it was as if they were born from flame.  Their slit irises were like a cat’s or a lizard’s, and they were filled with such confidence that even Tywin would be hard-pressed to equal it.  They also held within them something that the young Lannister couldn’t quite name.  It was on the tip of his tongue…

Ah yes.  Power.  Annatar’s eyes seemed to radiate with a power that Tywin could barely comprehend.  They seemed to say that this was one who could easily destroy you, but was choosing not to.  They told tales of such might that Tywin could not begin to comprehend it.

The future Lord of the Lannisters approved of him already.  He’d have to learn the trick behind those eyes.  If he could give others the same feeling, he’d be able to get things done so much more easily.

Tytos gave Tywin a slightly shocked look at the sudden interruption, but recovered quickly and smiled warmly.  “Ah, and here is my son, Tywin Lannister.  Tywin, this is Annatar the Red.”  So this was Annatar?  If the cub was not mixing up his rumors, this one was particularly well known for his shrewdness.  What was it he did, again?  Something about playing everyone in one of the other lord’s courts for fools, and then turning around and exposing no less than 4 different conspiracies against said lord in a single night, if Tywin wasn’t mistaken.  It might have been 6.  It was something to that effect, anyway.

Annatar gave him a smile.  If Tywin were a lesser being, his skin would have crawled.  As it was, the Lion simply stared back.  Tywin Lannister did not smile.  Not ever.  The man seemed to not take offense, simply extending a hand in greeting.  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, my Lord.  Lord Tytos speaks rather highly of you.  He claims you’re a genuine genius.”

Tywin didn’t even hesitate to shake the offered hand.  If that hand was merely a greeting, then fine.  If it were a challenge, then a real Lion would never back down from it.  Even his father would do that much, and Tywin refused to look weaker than Tytos Lannister.  “The pleasure’s mine.  I’ve heard the Istari are no fools themselves.  If even half the stories about you all are true, it is a reputation well earned.”

Annatar bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement.  “I have heard a few of the stories myself.  The embellishments of the rumor mill can be rather entertaining to listen to, I must admit.”  The Red stared at Tywin for a moment longer before turning back to Tytos.  “My Lord, I must admit, your praise of your son has piqued my curiosity.  If it is alright, I would like to speak with Lord Tywin in private for a bit.”

Tytos gave Annatar a bewildered look at that, but nodded slowly after only a moment’s hesitation.  “I do mind, Ser, if Tywin has no problem with it.”  Tywin nodded at once, not taking his eyes off of the sage.  What was he planning…?

Tytos gave a nod of his own before walking out into the hall, shutting the door behind him as he went.  Tywin _almost_ turned to look at it when he heard Joanna’s indignant protestations, but he restrained that particular urge.  He walked over to the chair across from Annatar, sitting down and steepling his fingers in front of him as he contemplated their guest.

This particular room was one of the more ostentatious ones they used to entertain guests.  It was crafted quite specifically to create an atmosphere of stereotypical relaxation and comfort.  Bookcases lined the wall to Tywin’s left, the only thing separating them being a currently unlit fire place.  A chandelier of gems that probably cost more than several villages combined hung above their heads, and they sat in chairs of the comfortable leather money could buy.  Each chair had a small table next to it to place drinks and food, though for now both of them were bare.  The carpet had been meticulously cleaned for this visit, for this was a most auspicious guest.

Said guest sat in silence for a while, allowing seconds to become minutes, merely considering the boy in front of him.  Eventually, however, his smile grew slightly.  “It seems, at the very least, that you are more assured in yourself than your father.  He couldn’t look me in the eye for more than a few seconds.  Well done, my Lord.”

Tywin didn’t react to the strike against his father.  It was such an obvious, common knowledge point that it wasn’t even worth defending.  “Why did you want to speak to me in private, wizard?   What do you want to say that cannot be said with my father present?”

Annatar’s grin faded slightly, though with a deliberateness that insured Tywin couldn’t take credit for it.  The petty bastard.  “If you have been hearing tales about all of us, Lord Tywin, then doubtless you have heard that my brothers and sister have found themselves Lords to follow.  I have considered things and figured it was time to do the same.  I have traveled to many Houses so far, looking for one I could stand to serve.  Lord Tytos had a reputation for being rather soft, but the Lannisters as a whole were known for being a strong and proud family.  I decided to give your family a look, and see if you are the ones I may lend my services.”

“I am, to put it mildly, unimpressed.  Lord Tytos is just as spineless and witless as I have heard, perhaps even more so.  I interrupted him and corrected him over 20 times while we spoke, sometimes on tidbits he was quite correct on, and he did not defend himself, or take offence at my rudeness.  Not once.  Tytos Lannister is no lion.  He is a rug to be stepped on and walked over.”

Tywin’s first instinct was to snap to his father’s defence, if only because slander against his father was slander against the Lannisters as a whole, but he stopped himself.  Annatar’s blunt rudeness was more than reason enough to throw him out and maybe set him on fire first, according to the law.  Whatever else the Istari was, Tywin knew for a fact that he was no fool.  Why would he tell the heir of the Lannisters this?

“If you are so disgusted with my father, why have you stayed?  From the sound of things, he has shown that the Lannisters would not meet your standards for employers.  I would think that a man such as you wouldn’t waste his time lingering at a House that has nothing for him.”

Annatar’s smile returned in full force, and he nodded in approval.  “Quite right, my Lord Tywin.  Lord Tytos has shown that he is not worth following.  I was not lying earlier, however; his praise of your skill has indeed piqued my interest.  I wanted to meet you before I left, to see if you truly were as insightful as your father claimed.”

Tywin frowned a bit harder in confusion.  “Why?”

“Why, to see if he was right, of course!  After all, Lord Tytos might be a lost cause, but his son?  His son could be a different story entirely.  I have heard whispers of you, Lord Tywin.  Nothing major, of course.  Merely that you are a frightfully intelligent boy, and that you command a presence that men thrice your age would not be able to replicate.  To have those kinds of gifts at so young an age…why, that would be most impressive indeed.”

Tywin looked at Annatar like he’d just grown a second head for no reason other than to tell knock knock jokes.  “Are you seriously trying to get me to believe that you think I am more of a Lord worth serving than father?”

The wizard shook his head.  “No.  But you might have the potential to become that Lord.  That is why I wanted to meet you, Lord Tywin.  I want to see if your gifts are worth cultivating.  I wanted to meet you so that I could see for myself if the man you could grow to be was a man I could stomach bending my knee to.”

Tywin went back to contemplating the man sitting in front of him for a moment.  “And why do you think I would want your service in the first place?  What can you do that make it worth my while to keep you around?  What skills or talents do you have that I would value?”

The Istari gave a small shrug.  “That is an excellent question, my Lord.  We Istari are habitual wanderers, so we have no real use for much material wealth.  I can bring no riches to add to your own considerable coffers, I have no steel I could use to fend off your enemies.  Despite the tales of my deeds, I have no real prestige I could bring to your name, and accepting me as your servant would not improve your own by much, if at all.  None of that matters, Lord Tywin, for I have something far more valuable: my mind.  I have no small amount of intellect, and I have a great deal of experience using it.  I know things the rest of Westeros has long forgotten, things which could give you that vital edge when times are hard.  I have my magic, which you will find I am more accomplished in than any of my fellows.  I could forge items of power for you, spy on your enemies from afar, and bring more servants and soldiers into your fold.  If you need someone to negotiate for you, or help you to plan something, or give you any sort of advice at all, I can do all of that and more with aplomb.  There are, if you’ll forgive the hubris, a few benefits to having me on your side.”

Tywin took a moment to take all of that in.  He wasn’t sure how much of it he believed.  That seemed like too fantastical, varied, and useful skillset for anyone to have, let alone someone who was now trying to get employed by a boy who hadn’t even reached the double digits yet.  In the end, after all of that, the Lion that would one day be one of the most powerful beings in all the land had to ask…

“Why?”

“Pardon, Lord Tywin?”

“Why do you want to serve someone?  Why have the Istari decided to serve others all of a sudden?  What is it that you get out of this?”

Annatar paused for a long moment, and eventually, his smile settled into a small grin that Tywin could swear was impressed.  “You’re the first of all the people who’ve interviewed me to ask that question, my Lord…such a simple thing, and yet, no one thinks to wonder…”  He paused again, nodding in satisfaction.  “Very well then, my Lord.  I will tell you.  I cannot promise you will believe me, but this is the reason why we have decided to…change tactics, as it were.”

“Winter is coming.  An ancient threat from the North, beyond the Wall, is stirring.  It will descend upon Westeros within the century.  Were it merely a wildling with delusions of grandeur and an unusually large army, we Istari would never have come to these lands.  Our people firmly believe that the problems of men are for men to solve; we have no interest in petty disputes or tedious power struggles, nor do we care who sits upon your thrones and proclaims themselves your liege.  But when the problems become magical in nature, they become our problems.  When those problems threaten the all the realms of men, then they become our Enemy.  We Istari only appear in the kingdoms of regular men when we are needed.”

Tywin nodded a bit.  It was pretty ridiculous, and he was certain some of it was a lie, but from that perspective he could figure out the rest.  “And there’s only so much you can do, wandering around and fixing whatever random wrongs you come across.  You needed more to combat this ‘ancient threat’.  You needed armies, and the ability and authority to mobilize them affectively.  You needed the materials the wage war, and you simply couldn’t get that if you stuck to how you were doing things before.”

Annatar nodded.  “That is exactly right, my Lord.”

Tywin went right back to frowning hard.  “Why should I trust you?  What’s to stop you from betraying me should you find a more suitable candidate?”

Annatar chuckled slightly at that.  It was a beautiful sound, if Tywin were being completely honest, but there was something behind it that gave him pause.  “Should we become Master and Servant, my Lord, you will never need to fear me.  I am, first and foremost, a practical man.  I value pragmatism, logical thinking, planning things carefully and thoroughly, and taking the option with the most gain and least loss.  It is through this pragmatism that you may rest assured about my loyalty, Lord Tywin, for if I do end up serving you, it is because you _are_ the best option available.  By definition, there would be no one I could betray you to.  I do not settle for second best in anything.  Your success would mean my success, and thusly, I would do my damndest to make sure you are the most successful man to ever live.  I am a practical man, my Lord Lannister, and I stand to gain far more from being loyal to the greatest of the time than I do from betraying master after master once something newer comes along.”

Ah, now _this_ was familiar.  _This_ made sense.  _This_ he could actually believe without question.  After all, if Tywin were in the same situation, he’d probably make the same choice.  Using another to advance your own position was Lording 101; Annatar was merely claiming that he’d be doing it in such a way that they’d both benefit.  However, there was still one more thing.  “Let’s assume I choose to believe you, you deign me worthy of serving, and we eventually face and vanquish this threat you speak of.  What then?  What do you plan to do after your mission is over?”

Annatar considered that for a moment, and…Tywin couldn’t be sure, but he thought that perhaps the question hadn’t even occurred to the would-be servant.  “I…don’t know, I’m sorry to say.  I suppose I will serve you until you die and then be on my way.  Perhaps I will build myself a boat and sail West.  Perhaps I will wander the land until I too pass on.  Or perhaps something will happen and I will be flung screaming into the Void.  It is impossible to say, my Lord.  It all depends on what happens between now and then.”

Tywin sat back in his chair, closing his eyes for a moment as he thought things over.

“So?  Do you believe I could be a Lord worth serving once I succeed my father?”

“I do.  You have impressed me, Lord Tywin, and that is not an easy thing to do.”

“Then I accept your offer.  Serve me well, and you’ll be rewarded.  A Lannister always pays his debts.”

Annatar’s grin returned to full force at that.  “Excellent.  For the time being, my Lord, how would you make use of me?”

Tywin considered the Istari once more before answering.  “You’ll be my tutor and adviser.  You seem to be the type who doesn’t mince words when you choose to be honest, and that kind of honesty can be very useful.  It is certainly more useful than the inevitable circus of sycophantic yes-men that will latch on to me as I gain more and more prestige.”

Annatar stood and bowed slightly, in a small show of deference.  “As you wish, my Lord.  I will inform Lord Tytos of my new role.”

Tywin raised an eyebrow at that, almost approaching something that could be mistaken for amusement.  “You will inform him?  Not ask for his permission?”

Annatar chuckled again at that.  “My Lord, please, we both know that Lord Tytos would defer to a wet rag if given the chance.  I will inform him, and he will agree.  Perhaps he will even think it was his idea.”

Tywin nodded at that, not feeling fond enough of Annatar yet to join in the verbal slaughter of his father’s name.  “You begin your service to me tomorrow.  Impress me.”  With that, he excused himself, getting to his feet and walking to the door.  He opened and found himself staring in shock at the two guards standing on either side of the frame.  Had his father ordered them here?  Why…?

Apparently, Annatar could read minds.  “Come now, my Lord.  Your father may not be the greatest lord in all the land, but he is still a father.  Did you truly believe he’d allow his beloved son to spend time alone with a man he knew almost nothing about without some kind of…insurance?”

Tywin didn’t say anything to that.  He merely walked off to find Joanna and tell her about what just happened.  He shoved the thought that perhaps his father wasn’t quite as incompetent as he’d thought into the back of his mind for later review.

* * *

 

Annatar watched Tywin walk away until he could no longer see the boy.  He then turned and looked at the fire place, gazing into flames that were not burning.  Plans upon plans, possibilities upon possibilities…he’d come here to see if the Lannister boy could have been of some small use later, and instead had found mithril yet unmined.  So many things could happen, there were so many things the wizard had to consider if he wanted the optimal result from this…arrangement.

His smile refused to fade, even now that he no longer had an audience to smile for.  If nothing else, this almost certainly would not be boring.


End file.
